


recharge

by hyphae



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 13:19:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3651813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyphae/pseuds/hyphae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Megatronus of Tarn just needed to pull a few all-nighters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	recharge

**Author's Note:**

> OH MY GOD ITS FINALS SEASON THIS IS HOW I COPE

The first time it had happened, he had been alone. What was a few cycles without recharge compared with the unmined words of the ancients of Old Cybertron here in the Iacon Hall of Records, speaking of cultures and traditions that he could only imagine? He had a hearing with some council members of Tetrahex in a couple of cycles, and Megatronus was determined to develop a thesis informed by the full breadth of Tetrahexian knowledge, politics and culture by then.  
  
His fuel gauge beeped, steady and insistent, and Megatronus reasoned that it was perhaps time to call for a break. He raised himself on protesting joints from the table, blinked and saw his vision swim for a moment.  
  
Then he was picking himself up from the ground, among the datapads he'd scattered with his fall. Megatronus raised one hand to his forehelm, groaning. Through his disorientation he realized that his systems, stubborn with the denial of recharge had shut him offline for a few brief moments all on their own. He chided himself. It wouldn't happen again. 

\--

  
The second time it had happened, as his systems flickered online one by one and his optics refocused hazily, the first thing he saw was Orion Pax's face close to his own, strong brows knitted worriedly, blue optics wide with concern. He registered that Orion had propped him up against one of the terminals in the archives, hands on both his shoulders, steadying him.  
  
"You have been overworking yourself," Orion told him matter-of-factly.  
  
Megatronus chuckled, lifting a hand to brush Orion's arms aside. "I'm a labourer build, I can take it."  
  
Orion caught his hand in his own, delicate dark servos on silver and for a second it was all he could focus on. "Megatronus," his voice, low, thrumming, gentle and chastising, made Megatronus feel something invisible tug at his spark. "It won't do our cause any good if you push yourself to the point of collapse. You need to recharge."  
  
Megatronus looked up at his soft-featured faceplate glinting gold in the rare rays of light filtering through the skylights and data columns of the great Hall, conscious, for once, of the heaviness fogging his processor, and grinned. "You know, you're right. I am really slagging tired."  
  
Orion smiled, radiant, beautiful. "I'll call us a transport." 


End file.
